


Mapping

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal, Barbara is the best "ex" ever, M/M, Masturbation, Oral, Oswald is a power bottom shhh, Sounding, glances at past sexual and emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald needs to discover, rediscover- claim and reclaim himself. To do so, he has to touch every bit of himself that was ever taken from him- and those places that were not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mapping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MemoryPalaceofWillGraham (JaxCat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxCat/gifts).



> I love Memory and I wanted to surprise her with this little thing. Also here I go dragging my kinks from Hannibal fics to Gotham fics. I'd apologize but...I don't want to.

Oswald’s chest was rising, falling, rapid little breaths of excitement as he pressed back against Jim’s warm, exposed chest. He tipped his head back, leaned it against his shoulder, as his lover’s hand pumped his cock slowly. Jim turned, smiled into his hair and kissed him, his other arm locked around his waist.

“Feel good?” he breathed, and Oswald swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding. He squirmed in Jim’s lap, fully naked except for his damn socks and the little garters that kept the expensive cotton in place- Jim laughed over it at times, but there was something about them he _loved_ , secretly, silently.

“ _Yesss_.” The word was a hiss, Oswald pushing up into his hand. He was one singular, giant nerve, this one- Jim knew. Years upon years- a lifetime, truly- of not pleasing himself, or such sexual stunting, that a few touches from Jim and he could easily be gone.

There was a healing in that, Jim knew too. That’s what this was, this night, in his apartment with just the two of them. This was healing.

Jim pulled his hand away, Oswald mewling over the loss of contact as it found his thigh, squeezed once. “Are you sure you want this?” Oswald was nodding, reaching down to run his hands along Jim’s thighs, over flesh and the cotton of his underwear.

“Positive.”

Jim reached one hand towards the night stand, flipping open the slender box there, He pulled out one thin length of metal, twisting it in the low light from the lamp- the only source in the room. He passed it in front of Oswald, who took it, twisting the cool metal in his fingers, examining it. Jim couldn’t see his eyes, the ghostly irises being over taken by his pupils as he examined it. The fear and excitement all wrapped into his slim body.

A chance to regain everything, taken back from cold, ghostly hands that should never have touched nor harmed. Take back his body, claim it for himself.

Oswald heard the pop of a bottle being opened, and Jim’s arm left his waist. When his hand returned, his fingers were slick, running along the pieceof metal as Oswald still watched. Watched everything- it was what he was good at, taking in the world and storing every bit of knowledge away. The world was his inside his head.

Jim’s still-slick hand wrapped around his cock again, stroking once, then resting on the base, holding him still. Oswald’s nimble fingers pressed the tip of the metal length- the sound- to his hole, pushing gently as his other hand gently held the head of his cock. The first breach left him gasping- the metal still cool, the intrusion so foreign and new that for a moment his mind went blank, white static against a black curtain, collapsing in on itself, folding up into nothing. But then Jim’s other hand rubbed along his waist, brought him back, and Oswald was guiding the sound in again, further now, trying to keep his breathing steady.

“If it hurts, stop,” Jim whispered reassuringly into his hair, kissing him again. He tried to hide the tension in his own body- didn’t want to man in his lap to know he was worried he might be hurt. Jim knew it was safe- not from his own experience, but Barbara’s words, oddly. Soothing to him one night as they sat, staring out at the city over drinks, Renee’s perfume still in her hair and Oswald’s kisses still hot on Jim’s collar bone.

_He needs to take himself back. She took it all from him. He doesn’t own himself_. She had sipped her wine, spoken through a faint pink mouth without looking at him. _From what you’ve told me, he needs to rediscover his body for himself. For his own use, his own pleasure. He needs to own himself_.

Jim knew she was right, knew from the way Oswald took so well to Jim having him explore himself- how his ice eyes had widened with his own fingers inside himself, how Jim had woken up at night with him squirming against him, clinging and stroking himself but not letting Jim touch. He was an entire world unmapped, a quest left open ended.

When Barbara had suggested this, Jim had wanted to shut her down- but she had mentioned it offhandedly again within Oswald’s presence, and Jim knew at that moment he couldn’t deny his lover if he asked. And he had.

Oswald exhaled a long, shaky breath once he had the sound a few inches into his body. “It’s tight,” he whispered, his hand leaving his cock to squeeze Jim’s thigh. He pulled the sound out, slightly, pushing it back in just a little farther. His breath escaped him again, he pushed back against Jim, leaning fully into his chest. Another thrust, and the sound was deeper- pulled out again, and he was seeing the static he had felt earlier, erupting up from his blood and out through his pores. His skin was electric.

He cursed, closing his eyes, focusing on the feel of the metal sliding in and out of his body. It was warming from his flesh, an entirely knew sensation, unlike anything he had ever felt. Different from Jim’s fingers pressing into his body, from his own- new in a way that it was untainted, untouched by _anyone_.

That alone had him sobbing his breath out, had Jim’s arm locking around his waist tightly. Hushing him, whispering into the skin of his neck, kissing where his words implanted under the flesh. Oswald sobbed another breath as he moved the sound faster, tipped his head back fully onto Jim’s shoulder as his body trembled, a mix of euphoria from nerves that had never been touched finding life- and the fact that he was touching something untouched, something unused by trusting hands.

Something of his that his mother had never had.

Oswald gasped, arched, pulling the sound fully from his body and dropping it on the bed, choosing instead to grasp his cock in his hand and pump a few times, his body shaking as he came, splashed over his knuckles, up along his stomach. He was left shaking, breathless, falling so into Jim that it was as if he was, again, melting. Jim rocked him, kissing his temple and ignoring his own erection in favor of wrapping his arms around the lithe frame that trusted him enough to be so exposed.

*

It was dark when Oswald shifted the sheet over Jim. He was sound asleep, had been for a few hours- Oswald had too, until he’d woken with an ache in his gut, an emptiness that had never been filled that night. With an awkward sort of care, he straddled himself over Jim’s thighs, one hand reaching out to rub up along his groin, over the fabric and the shape of his flaccid cock. His lover exhaled, shifted slightly, but did not wake up. Oswald dragged the fabric down around Jim’s thighs, shifting back as he could double over- contort himself so his spine pressed up against tight flesh. He dragged his tongue along Jim’s cock, from base to tip, his hand following to stroke, before he lifted it, slipping it into his mouth. He suckled gently, his free hand gripping Jim's thigh, bracing himself and needing that anchoring point of contact with him.

Jim hardened in his mouth in a way that made Oswald shiver. Words in a hissed, raspy female voice told him he was ugly, he was hideous- disgusting and vile. Told him he was lucky to have her hands, that he was lucky to have a mother’s love. No one else would ever want him.

Oswald squeezed his eyes shut, pushing it all away, grasping at Jim’s thigh tighter. The man beneath him stirred finally, eyes opening with a gasp as he pushed up into Oswald’s mouth.

“Wha-“ the word started, fell from tired lips. Jim groaned, trying to push himself up, catching the way the shadow of Oswald moved along him, hear the _pop_ of his mouth releasing his cock. Jim sat up fully as Oswald straightened, wrapped one arm around his shoulders and grabbed the other, guiding it down his body, around to his ass. Jim grasped him, help him flush against his chest in the dark and was given Oswald’s mouth. He let the smaller man kiss him, lick his way into his mouth, half asleep still and unable to find a way to resist-

Not that Jim wanted to.

Jim took over, palming skin, locking his other arm around Oswald, enjoying the friction they created as he received open mouthed kissed, a tongue that knew far more than it shoulder, teeth that were sharper than they had a right to be. Oswald was clawing at his shoulders, climbing over him more, rocking against him like he was riding his cock and trying to bring Jim off in that way that left the man with his eyes rolled back, half dead to the world and willing to bury himself if it meant staying just another moment in that euphoria.

“I want you,” Oswald started, tugging on Jim’s lip, “to fuck me.”

Jim didn’t ask, didn’t hesitate- he reached one hand towards his nightstand, overtaking the kiss as Oswald tried to climb up him. They tangled and untangled, until Jim had slick fingers pushing at his hole, one sliding inside as Oswald gasped into his mouth. Jim took advantage, slipped his tongue inside as a second finger joined the first and he pumped, gently- careful of him, worried of hurting him.

There was something that always told Jim he could split Oswald in two, split muscle from bone from blood from flesh- but the man was Gotham himself, was the incarnated at it’s best and worst. He could take the world without fading.

Some days, Jim could remember. Some.

“Fuck.” Oswald’s mouth formed the curse around Jim’s tongue, pushing back against his fingers, taking the third as he dug his nails into Jim’s shoulders, leaving little rest crescent moons behind as evidence for the morning.

He told Jim when he was ready, when he shoved him down, let him stretch out. Jim lay there, staring up at a dark ceiling, knowing his control has passed, his moment. Having Oswald in his arms like that had been all, a glimpse, a blink- now he was left breathless as Oswald’s hand slicked his cock, as he crawled over him, lowering down onto him until he had all of Jim inside, until his head was tipped back, eyes closed at the sweet feeling of fullness- what he had woken up aching for-

At least, almost.

Oswald lifted himself, splayed his hands on Jim’s chest and moved in a rhythm that had them both groaning, rushed breathed and sweet sounds that mingled with abandon in the bedroom air. It was so much, so fast, and Jim was arching up, pushing in, grasping at the sheets and gritting his teeth, sure Oswald wanted to kill him, bringing him so high so fast.

Just as he was there, so close the edge was in sight, Oswald slowed, stopped, rocked once and then was leaning over, fumbling at the nightstand. Jim reached up, steadying him with one hand, not looking at him but still up at the black above him, the dark where the ceiling was, had been, might be.

When Oswald straightened he leaned back, still not moving. Jim pushed himself up slightly, watched as he was running now-slick fingers along the thin metal sound he had grown to know earlier, before grasping the head of his cock and gently, almost sweetly, guiding the first inch inside.

“Fucking Christ,” Jim muttered, feeling his cock twitch inside Oswald’s body. The smaller man exhaled, sliding the sound further inside- his body keeping Jim was moving, forcing him to simply watch, to watch the heavy lids of his eyes, the way his lips slid open, the gentle flicks of his hands as the sound was moved, in and out of his body.

Oswald was dizzy, felt like he was falling off the bed, out of the apartment, through the earth and out into the nothingness of space. Jim’s flesh grounded him, but that was all he had to grasp at. His one hand left his cock, reached for Jim’s thigh as he leaned back, baring his cock more, exposing himself to Jim’s hungry eyes.

Oswald glanced down, watched the sound slide in and out of his body with ease. Felt it touching pieces of him that were his and his alone- that he could give to someone, but could never be taken. Nothing would be taken again.

Oswald would never be taken again.

“You’re killing me,” Jim husked out, his chest and belly heavy. Oswald squeezed his thigh, moved very carefully, sliding along his cock. Jim grasped at his hips and thighs, helped to guide him, never once missing that Oswald kept the sound moving through his body, pulling it almost fully from his cock and then easing it back in.

He wondered if Oswald would use it without him there. He hoped he would. Hoped he’d explore every bit of himself in the dark alone, like he should. Rediscover and redefine and reclaim.

Hoped he’d share all of it, someday. When he was ready, if Jim was lucky enough.

Oswald rocked again, slid along Jim’s cock, then suddenly pulled the sound from his body, letting it drop to the bed. The moment it did Jim grasped harder, rolled them, pushed Oswald onto his back until he was bending, he legs pushed back, almost wrapping around Jim’s waist.

Jim bowed his head, sucked at Oswald’s neck, pulled flesh into his mouth and offered his teeth, was given Oswald’s blunt nails drawn along his back in return. His lower quaked, tipped his head back and howled as Jim assaulted his prostate, fucked him like the world was ending around them, the city crumbling.

Both thought it plausible. Both had feared, plenty of times, that the city would burn down around them while they were coupling, lost in their caresses, the sweet drag of flesh and the sheets.

Oswald found Jim’s mouth, kissed him breathless as Jim huffed a single plea into him, _cum_ , over and over again, until Oswald was shaking and sobbing and arching, orgasm bringing him to a new sort of high as Jim fucked him still relentlessly. Oswald was screaming then, over stimulation turning his brain to boiling water, leaking down his spine and through out his marrow. Pleading wordlessly, strings of nothing and everything for Jim.

Jim came with a growl, a feral sort of sound, stilling and pinning Oswald into the sheets and pillows until he had filled his body completely. High himself after, Jim lowered his head, pressed it to Oswald’s forehead, smiling at him in a delerious sort of joy.

“Not like I have to be up for work in a few hours or anything,” he teased, and Oswald smiled, childish, the kind that melted Jim’s heart and had him kissing the other man gently, enveloping him in his arms as he refused to pull from his body, as his heart beat three sides too large inside a rib cage that had shrunk, that ached from the affection that had built inside.

*

Jim let Oswald lay in bed as he pulled his underwear back on, slipped out towards the kitchen. His first sight was a lamp light, left on like a small beacon in the dark.

His second was Barbara with her glass of wine, half empty, watching him with an amused half smile.

“Sounded like quite a show in there.” Jim felt color rising to his cheeks and disappeared into the kitchen, reemerging with a glass of water.

“I didn’t expect you to be back tonight.” He walked towards her, casually, sipping at the water, almost wincing at the chill, the contrast to the heat of Oswald’s mouth. He could smell Renee’s perfume on her as he was closer, stood close enough to reach out and touch her hair if he wanted.

“Duty calls,” she said with a sigh, “I should really learn to not date law enforcement.” She raised her glass in mock cheer, before taking a long drink. “So it went well earlier?”

“Earlier and now.” Jim smiled at her, and Barbara’s eyes lit up. She kept her satisfaction silent otherwise, basking in the joy that she had, in a sense, helped bring Jim’s lover. The fact that she found joy there was enough to make Jim think there was still some convoluted hope for the world. After all, his ex-lover held a genuine interest in his current, and was still willing to keep up appearances-

For everyone’s sake. If word got out about the affair, Jim would become a weakness, something that could be used to pull Oswald apart. And he didn’t want that, never wanted it. Best to live a lie, if only for the time. If only for a night, a day, a week- a year.

A lifetime if it meant the lie stopped being a lie at the doorway.

Inside the bedroom, Oswald was stretched out on his belly, socked feet curled in the sheets and blankets, which were pooled around his waist. He could hear Barbara’s voice, wondered if Jim’s cheeks had flushed, if he had tried to hide behind his glass. He himself felt no real embarrassment over Barbara having a seat at their show- in fact, it was oddly welcome at times. She was soothing- and she had, he knew, been the one to suggest he try the sound in the first place.

The metal had been placed back in its box, left to be washed for the morning. Oswald glanced at it, before reaching out and burying his face in Jim’s pillow, inhaling deeply, the scent of liberation reaching deep down into his bones.

He was another night closer to owning himself as no one ever had, or would.


End file.
